


What We Did Last Summer

by chromatic_78



Category: My Chemical Romance, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Almost but not quite, Dry Humping, F/M, Flashbacks, Kissing, Making Out, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromatic_78/pseuds/chromatic_78
Summary: You've been friends with the guys for years, so when they invite you along on another your you can't refuse.  The only problem is that you and Frank have some unresolved tension to work through.





	What We Did Last Summer

You had known the guys for what felt like forever, or at least Gerard and Mikey, that is. When you were kids they lived two houses down from you; as a trio you were the little terrors of the neighborhood. When they started the band it wasn’t even a question that you would be invited to come along, sell merch, plan gigs, and whatever else you felt like. You liked the think of yourself as the last, invisible member of the band — after all, long days and nights on the road had brought you all closer than ever, emotionally and physically. Truthfully, touring with the guys was one of the best times you’d ever had. So, naturally, when Gerard asked you to come alone on their next tour, you started packing immediately. 

When they pulled up to your apartment you practically ran out the door with your bags. “Gee!” you shouted and tackled him as he got out of the passenger’s seat. 

He laughed and hugged you back, “I’m surprised you’re willing to put up with us for another summer.”

“Well you know me, I can’t pass up a few months in a crowded van,” you say just as the back door opens and you here Ray yelling for you two to hurry up. Frank sticks his head out of the driver’s side door and smiles at you. You can’t help but smile back, even though you’re feelings are mixed. You had grown pretty attached to the guitarist last summer, but fell out of touch once the tour ended. You’d like to blame it on the distance.

Once you get on the road you all fall back into your old banter, singing along to the radio and laughing while Frank drives. At the first rest stop everyone gets out to grab some food or just stretch their legs. “Everyone meet back here in ten, okay?” Mikey shouts as you all rush across the parking lot. 

You’re wandering around looking at snacks and soda, when you someone taps your shoulder and you jump involuntarily. “Goddammit Frank!” you whip around to find him grinning like an idiot. 

“Glad to have you back, Y/N,” he looks directly into your eyes before closely inspecting a bag of Cheetos.

You grab a grape soda and get in line with him, “Do we have a hotel tonight?”

He shakes his head, “Nope, even better for getting to know each other.”

“What don’t I know about you, Iero?”

He just laughs and moves up in line.

Back in the van Ray takes the driver's seat and Frank moves to the very back row where you’re sitting with one of the guitar cases beside you. It’s almost like you two are alone here in the back. It’s getting dark and Mikey’s practically asleep in the second row while Gerard is droning on about some nature documentary to Ray in the front. A few moments of heavy silence go by before you speak up, “You seem tense.”

“Well, you know, first show’s tomorrow,” he folds his tattooed hands in his lap.

“I’ve never known you to get nervous about performing.”

He makes a neutral sort of noise and you don’t really know what to say next.

“Are you,” you start and stop yourself, “Do you not want me here?”

“Y/N, of course I want you here — we all do.” He’s quiet for a minute, “You just, um, never called or texted or anything.”

You’re heart starts to speed up and you can feel your hands getting clammy, “I stayed in touch with Gerard and Mikey.”

Frank makes eye contact all of the sudden, “I mean you never called me. After that summer I thought we were—when we—nevermind.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about.

[It was the last night of the tour and they had a show at a pretty big club in Philly. You were dancing and screaming in the front row all night, mixing with fans who had no idea how close you were to the band performing. Your then-boyfriend had called at least a dozen times that night, but you weren’t picking up. I might’ve been the lights or the bass or the three month long build up of sexual tension, but Frank looked like heaven and hell all wrapped into one on that stage. The way his fingers moved on the neck his guitar, the way he swept strands of damp hair out of his eyes, it all seemed so fucking perfect — calculated, even. 

The set ended with you and the rest of the band on a major adrenaline high, and whatever else you had each taken. Backstage was just as insane as the club floor, with crew and staff milling around between you and the band as you all rushed to the back. As you were about to follow Gerard into the dressing room you felt a hand on your shoulder. Frank turned you around and you leaned in. His mouth was right next to your ear, “I see how you look at me when I’m on stage.”

His voice, raspy and shaking, sent electricity through your entire body. The bathroom — you were right next to the bathroom. You pushed the door open with your shoulder and pulled Frank in by the front of his shirt. He was small, but you were smaller and when he stumbled in you were almost knocked over. The door swung closed and he lifted you up, so you were sitting on the sink. 

You swore you could feel the blood pumping furiously through your veins as his lips collided with yours. It was messy and sloppy and you were both sweating, but you heard yourself moan when he tangled a hand in your hair. He pulled at your shirt until he could lean down to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You responded by tugging at his shirt until he pulled it over his head to reveal a torso full of ink. As your fingers raked his chest you were struck with an overwhelming desire to get as close as possible to him. 

He looked up at you with swollen, pink lips that turned into a crooked smile. If you looked down you could clearly see through his jeans that he was completely hard. You reached down quickly, but your fingers stopped on the button of his pants. “Y/N,” he said breathlessly, as if he was begging you.

At that moment you felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket. Shit, you thought, he was still trying to reach you. Panic set in as you pushed Frank back and hoped down from the sink. Your hands shook when you saw the missed call signal — God, you had messed up. “I can’t,” you reached for the door, a way out, “I can’t do this.”]

Thankfully that was the band’s last show, as you and Frank did your mutual best to avoid each other. The task wasn’t easy, evident now that you were back on tour again, when you were essentially living on top of each other.

He’s still looking at you and that stupid scorpion tattoo is peeking out above his collar. You sigh, “I broke it off with him the minute I got home.”  
He starts to smile, but stops himself, “Was it-?”

“No, not because of you. What we did wouldn’t have happened if I was happy with him,” you start to laugh, “He was a real jackass, if I’m being honest.”

Frank laughs with you and soon you’re joking around like you used to. You reach out, without thinking, to brush his dark hair to the side. “It’s a lot longer now, it looks nice,” you say.

You’re hand is still dangerously close to his face and you see him start to fidget with the strings of his hoodie. He whispers so the other guys won’t hear, “I don’t know about you, but last summer was the best mistake I ever made.” He leans into and kisses you lightly before getting more aggressive. Before you know it you’re practically on his lap with one of his hands under your shirt and Ray is yelling from all the way up front that you two better stop before someone gets pregnant. 

“I’d have to agree with you on that one.”


End file.
